Hunting Secrets
by April29Roses
Summary: Merlin hates hunting with Arthur, but the reason is not as simple as would first appear. A mild/moderate Merlin whump story set between Seasons Two and Three. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The weather was really fine for a fall morning. The air was bracingly cool and soft, though the morning had not yet come, the early morning fog was thin and spotty. It would burn off quickly and then the sun would shine. It would be one of those absolutely perfect autumn days in Albion that was made for hunting. Arthur would be ecstatic, thought Merlin darkly.

The pile of gear in front of him wasn't going to pack itself, so the dark haired boy started to arrange the items. Cooking gear. Clothing. Bedrolls and blankets. Medicines. Arthur's hunting gear... the list was ever ending. At least he had done it so often, he had it down to finely honed science. There had been an added advantage to his overall improvement in packing for Arthur's obsessive enjoyment of hunts. He could now organize expeditions at a moment's notice. At least it wasn't one of the big social hunts, with tons of food to carry and royal courtiers all vying for Arthur's attention. No. At least the prat didn't go in for that. They would be after deer today.

Now he only need pick up the fresh food from the royal kitchen and pack it carefully. He stumbled down to the kitchen, feeling quite grumpy and out of sorts. He hated hunting and he had his reasons.

"No long faces now," said Margolys with a toss of her long white braid, rousing him from his reverie " Let's not see that face on you this morning, young master." Merlin had been shuffling past to the kitchen door, when his expression had caught her eye.

"Merlin" he said, echoing Arthur's production of his name

"I'll call you what I want," the old woman said brightly as she scalded the last of the dish cloths using a paddle, in a huge pot of boiling water and hung them out to dry on the line. "Let me have look at you."

Merlin gave her his best mischievous look, but he failed completely. Old Margo, as everyone called her, could always see past his facade. She was like Gaius that way. She had worked in the kitchen for so many years, that she remembered when Hunith had worked in the castle. She smiled at him as she dried her hands on her apron.

"The Prince wants his hunt I guess."

"You can tell."

She laughed with a shrug of her shoulders. She stood on tip toe to place her hand on Merlin's shoulder, her lined face going serious as she looked up into his turbulent eyes. "Maybe you should tell Arthur what bothers you about hunting. You might be surprised." He looked down at her, and suddenly he wondered if maybe she wasn't right after all.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It had been a long day. Merlin had tramped along beside the horses, helping the beaters as they ran the deer down. Arthur liked to act the huntsman , and he had determined the animal they were after the day before the hunt, giving him an extra excuse to miss a council meeting. It was a strong buck, he said, young enough to not be stringy, and old enough to have sired his share of fawns. Arthur was careful of his game, for he had been taught to love the forest from his youth. When the magnificent animal had come in his sights, it had only taken a moment for the King to site the creature with his crossbow, but a crunching branch, alerted the beast. With a momentary dark glance at the King, the stag had leaped away, safe from the stream of cursing that followed it as it leapt into the dark safety of the forest.

The King turned on his manservant with pent up rage. "That's the second time today, Merlin!"

Innocent eyes met his angry tirade. "I'm sorry, Sire", said the servant more pointedly than he usually did, his penitence not immediately evident in his tone. He looked at the ground, while the prince berated him for his clumsiness and lack of stealth.

"We'll all go hungry tonight, if Merlin has his way," intoned Arthur, after he ran out of insults. The knights around him guffawed, only Leon and Lancelot keeping a pleasant smile for the guilty servant.

Merlin could not look at his master but he kept his eyes down. He hoped Arthur would not decipher the frustrated anger he was holding in. He steeled himself to keep his tongue silent but it didn't work.

"Don't think you know what that means, prat." he said softly.

Arthur rounded back on him. His pale eyes were keen and narrow, almost calculating as he looked over at his servant. For a moment, Merlin thought he might have gone too far and he gave the prince a pleading look. But the master turned from his manservant without another word and urged his destrier after the vanished stag.

Merlin kept a low profile after that, staying with the group, but no longer trailing after Arthur. The prince for his part, kept at the head of the hunt, tracking the animal that had eluded him thanks to Merlin's clumsiness. The morning light faded into the dull flatness of a cloudy afternoon. When they stopped to water the horses and eat a bite themselves, he had quietly served the knights and Arthur, but the prince said nothing to his servant and there was a palpable tension growing. The knights noticed Arthur's gaze on Merlin, with a sort of uncertain, withdrawn intensity. From the lack of banter, they knew to keep their tongues quiet.

The hunt had resumed and Arthur had caught the trail of the stag again. They were nearing the edge of his hunting lands, but the quarry was still within their bounds. Arthur motioned for Merlin to take a position closer to the border of his hunting grounds to frighten the deer back into the boundaries of the King's forest, if he should happen to see it. He could hear the crash of the horses as they followed Arthur.

It would serve the clotpole right, if they caught no deer, he thought mutinously. He moved along the uneven terrain, hearing Lancelot and Leon shouting in the distance. Arthur's horn sounded, calling the hunting party back together again, and then silence descended. Even the bird stopped singing. Merlin wondered if Arthur had lost the trail of the quarry.

He felt, more than heard, the stag when it approached him. It was there almost as if summoned by Merlin's magic, moving silent and unaware, nibbling absently at a few tender leaves, gazing at him from the shadows. The creature alerted. It looked directly into Merlin's eyes, and then he saw it's gaze shift. It sprang away.

Merlin felt a tremendous shove and and he was stumbling to the ground. The deer was gone. He tried to catch himself but he gasped in sudden pain, not knowing what had happened. The agony sucked him into unnatural darkness. The world spun, and the servant cried out. He had only one thought.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

In the silence after Arthur's sounding of the horn, as the knights listened, they heard a cry. Arthur's name. The prince whipped around, his face suddenly pale as he recognized his servant's voice.

Plunging through the underbrush in the direction of the cry, they found nothing. Looking rather panicked, Arthur sounded the horn again, hoping to raise a response from his manservant, but only more silence greeted them. He heard a cry of "Oi" and they followed the sound, finally breaking into clearing.

It was a sight it would take Arthur a long time to forget. Merlin was lying face down near the edge of the clearing, a white feathered shaft of an arrow embedded at an angle almost in the center of his upper back. The dark haired boy was sprawled ungracefully, his blue shirt was already heavily soaked in blood. A man in the deep green cloak was standing over him, bow in hand. He smiled as he saw the prince, bowed and with a flourish he placed his foot on Merlin's back and pulled the shaft out, ignoring the strangled gasp it elicited. He toed Merlin over with a casual brutality. He held the bloody arrow out to the king, his smile never dimming.

"I found this poacher on your lands, Sire."

A/N All my knowledge of medieval hunting comes from several sites on the internet. I have never been hunting, so if there are horrendous errors in the hunting sequences of this story, I most humbly beg your indulgence!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The gamekeeper found himself shoved aside, a tall curly haired knight blocked him entirely from from the prince as the scene unfolded. The knight's heavy hand never left his shoulder, only tightening as he saw the wounded boy try to get up as the prince leapt from his horse, calling out in shock.

"Merlin, no," he shouted, even as the younger dark haired man stumbled in his attempt to rise. His legs supported him for only a second before he fell again. He collapsed limply, without a sound even as the prince reached his side.

"Merlin", he cried again. Even as he knelt, he removed his cloak, pressing the wadded up underside of the cape hard into the boy's wounded back in an attempt to stanch the bleeding. The boy didn't move, and the prince seemed to be trying to rouse him, even as he maintained an even pressure on the wound. The boy finally stirred and one of the other knight's took over holding the sodden blood-soaked mess of the king's cape, firmly on the bleeding, as the prince continued to talk to the boy quietly.

After a few anxious minutes, the prince himself, peeled back the cape to peer carefully at the wound.

"Not as bad as it looks," he said strongly, with evident relief. "It's a long gash along the shoulder, skirting the bone but it didn't penetrate through. It got stopped by your shoulder blade. You have the luck of a perfect idiot Merlin. You're going to need stitches. Better Gaius should do it than than Lancelot or I!" His voice grew in merriment, as relief flooded over his features and he touched the dark haired boy's head, in heart-felt warmth.

The gamekeeper understood nothing of what was happening, except that the prince and all his party seemed to know the poacher.

"You shot Prince Arthur's manservant," the knight behind him said in a steely tone.

"He's a servant? He wears no livery, my lord. He was not with the royal party. These peasants take any advantage they can to hunt the king's lands...How was I to know?"

But it was clear that the crown prince was not listening to the gamekeeper; his attention focused solely on attending his injured servant. If the gamekeeper had not known better, he would have thought they were friends, at the very least. It was incomprehensible.

"I thought this idiot of a gamekeeper had killed you," the prince said to the younger man, with undisguised anger. Checking the wound again, and supporting the boy to rest more comfortably against his knee, the prince motioned for the rest of the knights to attend to him.

"The medical supplies are on Merlin's horse, Lancelot. I don't want to move him too much, until the bleeding slows. He needs some water." His tone was clipped and calm but the knights sprang into action as if he had shouted the orders in desperation. The prince remained by the side of his servant.

"My lord" the gamekeeper began again, speaking more loudly. "I believed he was a poacher. They hang about when you hunt hoping to take an animal that leaves the royal forest for their own families. Look at his boots, his jacket, Sire..."

"I know your role", said the prince, finally looking up at the man. His steely eyes almost frightened the gamekeeper, but deep down he feared the King even more. He did not understand the concern over this servant.

What is your name, man?"

"Julian, of the clan MacIntyre," he said proudly.

"You are dismissed, "

"I'm, I'm sacked, " he stuttered.

"Leave me. We will discuss this later", he said, half rising. The anger in the prince's eyes made him step back a bit. He could not believe what was happening. The prince moved the servant gently to the care of the knight who was helping him and stood then. He realized that the prince was every bit as intimidating as his father, as he approached the gamekeeper and glared at him.

"My lord, he looked like a peasant, a poacher. I dealt with him as King Uther instructs." He tried to explain himself. "He is only a servant, Sire, surely..."

"Silence!" the Prince shouted. He was fairly trembling with anger and disgust as he looked into the eyes of the gamekeeper, his hand on his sword hilt. "You are lucky to have your life. If my servant had been killed, I would slay you where you stand... Do you understand?"

The man in green nodded. but he did not understand. Not really. He did not know how to comprehend the actions before him. The boy on the ground moaned, trying to sit up again. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, but determined.

" Arthur," he called, his voice miserable and achingly young.

The prince turned, and he was beside the injured servant quickly, almost as if the gamekeeper, who had been focus of his ire only a moment before, had disappeared into thin air. He took an offered waterskin from one the knights and gently lifted the servant's head to make it easier to take a few sips. He propped the boy up his side, braced against himself, but it was clear that the servant was too weak to hold himself up and he half sagged into the crown prince's lap. He was shaking uncontrollably, and he hissed with pain as they shifted him carefully. Together the prince and the knight, whose name was Lancelot, bound his wound tightly and wrapped a blanket around him.

"Don't swoon like a girl, now," said the prince in a vaguely derogatory tone, which prompted the servant to smile faintly, even as his head lolled on his master's shoulder. Merlin reached out his hand and the prince took it firmly.

"It won't be long, Merlin. I'll get you to Gaius before you know it," His voice was calming and the servant nodded wearily.

Before the gamekeeper knew it, the royal party had mounted and gone. Carefully transferring the servant to ride in front of his master took only a few minutes. He would not forget the look the crown prince had given him as they began the road back to Camelot. There was a soul deep anger in them that clearly indicated the matter was not finished.

Still not able to understand his error, heartsick at losing his position, the gamekeeper trudged home.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Gaius had stitched carefully and precisely, and he was nearly done. The long gash, with a deeper entry where the arrow had hit the bone was nearly closed. Merlin had bled a lot during the procedure, and Guinevere's calm hands had helped Gaius while he coaxed the wound closed. Merlin, well dosed with a pain draught, had drifted in and out of awareness as they worked on him, but neither Arthur nor Lancelot could bring themselves to leave their friend during this anxious work.

They waited by the door, not daring to speak, as Gaius' temper could flare in a situation like this, and they did not wish to be banished.

The gash on his upper back was exposed, but the rest of Merlin was covered with warm blankets as he lay face down on a cot near the fire. Arthur could see another scar, a bit higher up on the same shoulder. He sat down gingerly next to his servant as Guinevere and Gaius moved away. Gaius was muttering amongst his vials of tinctures and elixirs compounding a draught, and Guinevere quietly gathered the blood soaked towels they had used and left to bring up some broth from the kitchen. Her glance was quiet, almost pleased as she looked over at the prince and his servant.

As Arthur settled in the chair next to Merlin, he was at a loss of what to say. His servant seemed to be worn out but unable to get comfortable. Gaius was concocting another of his vile tonics. Lancelot sat on the other side, quiet and grave, but somehow a comforting presence.

"Where did you get that?" said Arthur conversationally, pointing at the older scar, hoping he did not look or sound as concerned as he felt, looking down at the now stitched together wound. It looked like it would heal cleanly, and Arthur had certainly seen worse. All would be well barring infection. But it was obvious that it had been a matter of inches and the angle of the shot that had spared Merlin's life and that was what disturbed him deep down. Luck had been on their side that day and Arthur was more grateful than he could even bear to admit. Merlin was very pale, his lips almost colorless, but he smiled a bit as he slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the prince.

"Got it from a prat who didn't like the way I talked to him," he murmured.

"Oh" said Arthur in stunned comprehension, the memory of it surfacing clearly as any painted image. "I had a mace..."

At that, Arthur felt rather than saw the glare Lancelot sent him. But Gaius interrupted fortuitously.

"Let him rest now Sire," said the old man as kindly as he could. He spoke to the prince but looked dirctly at Lancelot. Even as the words left his mouth there was knock on the door, and one of Uther's guards entered to say that the king wished a word with his son.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Lancelot gently pushed back Merlin's fringe of hair, as he saw the lines of pain start to fade from around Merlin's eyes. It brought him comfort merely to see the boy breathe, to see the faint blue sparkle in the servant's eyes as he faded in and out of sleep. Merlin's discomfort held him tightly and did not let him rest for long. Lancelot was shaken by his friend's close call.

Lancelot, more than anyone else knew it was sheer luck that the gamekeeper had not killed Merlin today.

Lancelot had hunted on the king's land with permission more than once, when the kitchen had needed fresh game for a feast. He already had worked with Julian MacIntyre. He was a competent gamekeeper,who was assiduous in his daily routines.

Lancelot was not a noble, so he had a rather jaundiced view of gamekeepers. It was his private opinion that Julian was a cruel man, who liked to seem jovial, even kind. He was a man who pleased his overlord Uther, and never deviated from his strict rules and congratulated himself for his own version of loyalty. It did not matter to him, what happened in the villages around him. Although he knew of the illnesses that ravaged the town of Camelot, although he knew when an accident had made it difficult for a family to hunt, it mattered not to him. He had a job to do and in his world view, the peasants were always hungry; like rats, they were always ready to steal when times were hard. Julian had carried out sentences, both public and private, as his job required. Amputations, hangings, castrations. Once he had even had the dogs hunt one of the poachers down. Lancelot suspected he relished his duties and avoided him when possible.

These actions were common things for most gamekeepers and though they grated on his noble heart, Lancelot knew that Uther would see the protection of the hunting lands as a right granted by the Almighty himself. He sighed. Maybe Arthur would see it differently. He could not forget the heartbroken pain in Arthur's eyes as he had tried to stanch Merlin's bleeding.

Julian was known to be an excellent shot,and Lancelot thanked the powers of the forest for the unusually poor aim that had spared Merlin's life.

"Sleep now," whispered Lancelot, patting his friend's uninjured shoulder. He would not be parted from Merlin's side on the next hunt, he promised himself.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"It is unfortunate that the gamekeeper shot your manservant, Arthur, but the man was doing his job," said Uther with an air of casual finality.

"As was my servant, Father. If the gamekeeper is so aggressive about poachers, it could have been one of my knights."

Uther chuckled as he reached for his cup of wine. "As if he could not tell a knight of Camelot from a peasant!" He took a long drink before he looked up at his son. "You make too much of this, Arthur. The forests are mine and you know as well as I do that I cannot allow the peasants to encroach on my hunting lands. They would decimate the game. Everyone would suffer. If I dismiss this gamekeeper, another one would still have to do the same job. Let it go."

"You know as well as I do, Father, that each gamekeeper patrols the forest in his own way. I cannot feel at ease with the brutality of this particular man."

"Because he shot your servant, Arthur? You rush to judgement."

" I do not trust him near my hunting parties, Father. On those days I hunt, I am better off alone than with that man, because I will not work with a keeper who would shoot an unarmed servant, in the back, without a warning."

The words struck home and Uther shifted uncomfortably,saying nothing.

Sensing the King's resolve wavering, Arthur continued. "Let me find another gamekeeper, Father. I need someone I can trust on a hunt." The boy had a point. He knew that stubborn look in Arthur's eyes. It was his own. Very little would change his son's opinion of the game keeper now, and in the end it did not matter a great deal to the King. He seldom hunted now, and it was a fine idea that Arthur set his stamp on how he was going to run things. It was a small concession. The king savored his wine before he spoke.

"Very well, Arthur. He does not attend the forest the days you lead a hunt. Perhaps you are right, another game keeper might be in order. We will begin the search."

"Thank you, Father," said Arthur respectfully. The crown prince bowed, leaving the king alone by the fire.

King Uther took another deep draught of his wine. He wondered if Arthur would ever outgrow these peevish streaks that surfaced at the oddest of times.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The prince was unable to sleep. As much as he hated to admit it, when he closed his eyes, all he could see was Merlin lying in the clearing, covered in blood with an arrow in his back. It shivered along his soul like the screech of a banshee, grating on his consciousness. It haunted him, but he was not sure if it was the reality of the sudden brutality that could have robbed him of his servant, or the almost nightmare quality of that vision that presaged some unreal future. Arthur thrust the thought from his mind... again.

Best to get up and not be consumed by his gruesome fears, he thought. Donning some clothes, he walked to the physician's quarters, easing the door open without knocking, as he knew Gaius would be asleep. The good doctor would not mind Arthur's visit, he told himself. Merlin never knocked. Besides, he was the crown prince, he could go where he wanted. Gaius was asleep across the room, obviously within earshot if Merlin needed him, in his regular sleeping spot. That eased Arthur considerably. The physician would not have left his ward's side, even to go to his own bed, if there was any hint of fever or complication. Gaius grumbled and snorted in his sleep. Arthur glided past silently.

Merlin was still lying on his stomach, partially supported with pillows, facing the still glowing fire. His breathing was slow and even, and Arthur felt his evil dreams evaporate the moment he looked down at his friend. He felt the world sort itself out. He settled himself softly on the floor by the bed. But when he glanced over at his servant again, Merlin's eyes were open.

"Hey", the prince said softly, "I didn't mean to wake you." He paused. " How are you feeling?"

Merlin's eyes were still a bit glassy from the pain draught, but his smile deepened as he looked back at Arthur.

"Sore," said Merlin. "Really, really tired and thirsty."

"Here." He helped Merlin up a bit to give him some water, and then helped maneuver him back down. The prince poked at the fire a bit to get it going, and fed it another log.

"I hate hunting, " said Merlin softly, after few moments of silence. "Want to know why?" The prince smiled.

"That's not going to get you out of the next hunt, you know."

The servant ignored the comment and asked another question.

"Have you ever been hungry, Arthur? I mean, seriously hungry."

"I should say so! You hardly ever bring my meals on time."

Merlin sighed, and he closed his eyes in frustration or pain. The prince didn't want to guess which. Arthur could hear himself being called a prat, though no word escaped his servant's lips.

"Ok" , said Arthur at last. "What did you want to say, Merlin?"

"I hate hunting on the king's land, Arthur. All those years... I was growing up in Ealdor... " He groped with his words to try and make Arthur understand. Maybe it was a good thing he still muzzy from the drug. Maybe not. He decided to just plunge in. "Sometimes there wasn't enough food for my mum and me, and in the winter it's hard to hunt. There was always game in the king's forest, but we didn't dare enter it."

Arthur looked a little uncertain but his voice was confident. "There's good reason...", but his servant cut him off.

"My mum used to pretend she wasn't hungry so she could give the food to me. She went without so many times. Pretend for one second, Arthur that all you had to do was cross the imaginary line of the king's reserve and go hunt for what you needed for your family. Would you take the chance? Would you dare the punishment, so your mum could eat? Do you really know how long, how horribly long, the winter can be?"

The prince was shaken by Merlin's words. No, he had never thought of that in that way. Never.

"I understood what she was doing when I was five, Arthur. I didn't have a father to hunt, and neighbors sometimes gave us what they could. But it was hard and we were hungry. I couldn't really do anything to help her till I grew up a little. Fear is a strong master, but hunger is far crueler. I never got caught, but I know boys who were. Boys who didn't come back. Our neighbor Morris lost a hand, so he was hardly any good on the farm after that. There were even worse stories. You know the laws as well as I do." He stopped talking for moment, trying to shift himself a bit and grimacing. He took a breath before he continued.

"Now I hunt on the king's lands, along with you. And I know somewhere out there in the forest, is a half-grown boy, just like I used to be. He's desperate to help his family and he's hungry. He's taking a chance that he won't be killed and his family might eat tonight. And there's nothing I can do about it, because it's just the way things are." He turned from his gaze at the fire and looked straight at his prince. He would never admit to the tears he felt stinging his eyes.

"The gamekeeper would think no more of shooting that boy dead, any more than he did today, when he shot me."

The silence between them was long, but at last the prince raised his voice

"The gamekeeper will not be present in the forest when I hunt, Merlin. And a new gamekeeper is in order. My father agreed with me at last."

"What?"

"I had a talk with my father while you were lazing about. No gamekeeper on hunt days. It's a bit unconventional but it should work out. The keeper who shot you, James or Jeffrey, or whatever his name was, will be dismissed when we find someone more suitable to me."

If there was any doubt in Arthur's mind about the fall out from his discussion with his father, it was driven away by the smile that lit Merlin's face. His eyes danced and Arthur sobered when he noted their lively contrast to his servant's almost translucent skin. Merlin had lost a lot of blood. But he was alive, thought Arthur. He was alive.

Gaius chose that moment to give a loud shuddering snore, followed by three gasping snorts and before he knew it, Merlin and he were stifling their relieved, almost hysterical laughter.

"Did you really threaten to kill the gamekeeper, Arthur?"

"Oh, one imagines all kinds of things when one is wounded," said Arthur, with mocking authority. "I ought to know!"

Merlin laughed quietly and then faded in sudden exhaustion into the pillow. His eyes slipped shut, but he fought them open for a few moments to look up at Arthur once more. He reached out to pat Arthur's shoulder, where he sat on the floor. only a few inches from his pillow,

"I just wanted you to know, Arthur," he murmured.

"Go to sleep, Merlin," he responded, with a seldom heard gentleness. His servant's words had affected him deeply. There was no doubt in his heart about how he would have answered his servant's question. He knew what he would have done if he had been in his servant's shoes. And that reality shoved his world into a new place.

Merlin was already deeply asleep, weakened by his blood loss, the pain, and the effects of the medicine. Grateful and deep in thought, the crown prince of Camelot stayed by his servant's side until morning.


	5. Epilogue

Chapter 5

It was said, in those years when the stories about King Arthur and his court were becoming legends, that the King dearly loved to hunt. His court sorcerer and companion, Merlin, complained loudly and bitterly about each and every hunt that Arthur insisted upon, but he never missed one. In fact, hunts were rescheduled if his attendance was not possible. He was a familiar sight to all of Camelot, riding beside the King.

It was said that Arthur would sometimes give chase to as many as three to four animals in a day, dashing from one end of his hunting lands to the other. Merlin frightened most of the game away by stepping on branches, and rustling tack, and later, when it became more accepted, with magical means. The king would berate him long and loud, for ruining his shot. He called him a girl and mocked him for not wanting to hurt the fluffy animals. And Merlin was well known to have responded with wide ranging insults, and clever, disruptive comments upon the weight of his King, and his general cabbage headed ways. A gamekeeper never accompanied them on their hunts, and they lost many fine quarry into the borders of the King's lands, but it never appeared to bother either one of them, nor did any of the knights complain. Late at night after a day of hunting, the King and Merlin could be heard laughing and talking long into the night, and if that made no sense after the long tirades and recriminations of the hunt, there were none who questioned that their behavior was entirely normal.

What was not well known, and in fact was a deep, dark secret, was that Old Margo, and later the Queen herself, would gather information about the need of various townships and villages surrounding Camelot. And if any one had cared to inquire, they would have realized that the quarry the King lost was always near one of the neediest locations. It was not remarked upon.

But there was many a mother who blessed King Arthur's name as she lay down to sleep. because her bairns little bellies were full. And it was commonly said that when King Arthur hunted, his people rejoiced.


End file.
